The other day, I got my Swedish röstkort or voting card. It’s the first election that I have been able to vote in here and I have to say, I am kind of excited. I feel so official, so Swedish… well, as Swedish as this American can feel. What it all means is that on September 19th, the elections for the riksdag or parliament will be held and I will be able to cast my vote as although I am a US citizen, I am a Swedish resident of more than three years.
Campaign signs for the different parties are plastered all over town, we’ve been receiving fliers in the mail and the candidates are out shaking hands at every opportunity. So that makes things extra interesting. On the election web site, there is information about how to vote in 26 different languages, which is also kind of cool. (See the voting site here.) From what I gather, the actual voting process is done pretty much the same as what we do it in the US. Now I just have to do some more reading up on the election and figure out how I am going to cast my vote…
In packing up the contents of our apartment, I came upon my travel drawer. In one huge drawer, I had tossed countless travel kits – the kind handed out by the airlines when you travel business class or have a long-haul flight and that include eyeshades, socks, earplugs, toothbrush and toothpaste and sometimes a comb, shoe bag, mints, lip balm and lotion.
Obviously, I had been stashing these little kits in the drawer after each trip and promptly forgetting about them. The size of the collection was astounding. It was also embarrassing. I had become a travel pack rat. There were at least 30 pairs of eyeshades in there. I don’t know what I was planning to do with them all.
So I did the only thing I could do: I pitched everything. Well, almost everything. I did keep two or three eyeshades and my favorite kits from Qantas and Singapore Airlines. I may need them the next time I travel, you know.
I’d been hearing a lot about it and last night I finally made it to Orangeriet. Opened in July, this bar and cafe has quickly become one of the new hot spots in Stockholm. It’s located right on the water in Kungsholmen, directly adjacent to the restaurant Kungsholmen on Norr Mälarstrands kaj. And I have to say it’s cool. Melker Andersson always does a good job with the decor of his restaurants and this place does not disappoint in that regard, although my friend Tracy decided it was perhaps more Barcelona than France or Italy.
True to the idea of an orangery, there were lemon, orange and olive trees inside the conservatory like building. Inside, there was garden-style furniture mixed with rough wooden tables and brightly colored couches while bird cages hung from the ceilings. It felt both cosy and comfortable.
Tracy and I had wine and tried some of the sushi from the bar menu. It was good but not great. But the menu looked good overall, with a lot of appropriately Italian options such as prosciutto, salami and pecorino. While I had heard service was not so good, our waitress was friendly, fast and helpful. I definitely plan to go back soon. Since I’m still camera-less, you’ll have to check out the photos here: Orangeriet.
Last night, I was at a grocery store with an American friend. It was the Dags Livs on Kungsholmen and the place is big, so big that it feels a bit overwhelming, so big, in fact, that it feels like home. This grocery is the closest thing that I’ve found yet to an American store. We both were in awe.
On the upper level, there’s an international food section that features American products like chocolate chips, marshmallow fluff, pumpkin pie filling, pop tarts and all sorts of American junk. I didn’t get anything, but it was nice to know it was there and good to look at it. Jodi was over the moon as there was French’s mustard and she promptly put two big bottles in her basket. And I’m thinking that I may need to make some chocolate chip cookies soon.
The produce section is huge and stocked with all kinds of stuff from all over the world, things like pomegranates and habaneros that you can’t usually find. There’s an olive oil section where the shelves are backlit and stocked with options. And there’s even a nut counter that functions like a deli where a clerk can set you up with different kinds of nuts.
Jodi and I got to talking about the things we import from the US. For me, it’s Listerine breath strips and Thermacare heat packs, for her it’s Jif peanut butter and brownie mixes. Another friend brings back Murphy’s Oil Soap and Pepperidge Farm cookies. And we all bring back Zip lock bags. Ah, the comforts of home!
The Cape Malay curry at Chakula. Photos by Annelie.
With maybe a bit more wine, I could have almost convinced myself I was in South Africa. The food, wines and decor were all authentic. And the place was a bit rowdy as there were several big groups eating together. But instead we were at Chakula, an African restaurant in Kungsholmen. Adding to the atmosphere was a group of Swedish women who were there for a möhippa or bridal shower – all 10 were wearing African-style print dresses and headscarves in honor of the bride, who had recently been married in Cape Town.
We were there with our friends Annelie and Jaakko who had been there before. Since Annelie is South African, I figured there was a good chance the food would be good and it was. Chakula serves traditional home cooking from South Africa and Tanzania. We all had the tapas platter to start with and it had a tasty combination of flavors, including samosas, dates wrapped in bacon, sosatie and a shrimp and mango salad.
Bobotie or meat loaf at Chakula.
Thanks to all the big groups, we then had to wait quite a while for our main meals. I had the Mboga ya Africa Kusini or Cape Malay curry with red lentils, tomatoes and pumpkin with rice. It was also quite good. Both Annelie and Robert had the bobotie – South African style meatloaf – and we decided that Annelie’s version was better. Jaakko had the braai or grilled steak.
All in all, I would say that Chakula is definitely worth another visit. Read more about them at African in Kungsholmen.
The only thing I can figure is that I’ve had a bad cold and had had too many cold medications. On a whim, I went to a casting call yesterday. The directors were looking for an American woman between 30 and 60 to play the role of a spaceship captain for a Norwegian television commercial. Although I was not so sure that I had the look of a spaceship captain, I did have the sex, age and nationality down. And it was just a bit too funny to pass up. So I gathered up some like-minded friends and we went to the audition.
On camera, I had to say who I was, where I was from and what I do and then I had to deliver a few lines while pretending I was at the helm of a space ship, acting as if I was calm and authoritative under pressure. I think I was just a bit too amused by the whole scenario to deliver the authority that the spaceship captain needed to have, but it was pretty fun to do anyway. I’m betting my friend Jodi got the part…
As I was working this afternoon just after lunch, I heard sirens. I ignored them for a while, then finally looked out the window from my desk and saw smoke. That got me out of my chair pretty quickly.
My window faces an interior courtyard together with two other buildings, with one directly across from me and one adjacent. The fire was one floor up in the building adjacent to me and I could see the firefighters at work with their hoses on the flames and using a huge crowbar to rip open the gutter and roof where the smoke and most of the flames seemed to be pouring out of.
I could see people in the building across from me on their balconies, so my first thought was OK, I must not need to evacuate. Then I called Robert and we decided what I should take in the event of an evacuation, figuring I should grab our passports, my work laptop and Robert’s camera, but leaving behind all our files as they were too heavy. Most everything else is in storage, so I left the packing at that.
As I left the building for an appointment, my street was blocked off with crime tape, so I had to detour around all the fire trucks. When I came back, the fire was out and the firemen were surveying the building from the roof while dirty black water dripped from the balcony onto the balconies below.
I can’t imagine how devastating this loss is for the apartment owners. My thoughts are with them and the other tenants too.
Our first Christmas here, we saw it at the Östermalms salu or food hall. A special table was set up with a big steaming copper pot of blodpudding or blood pudding. I had no idea what it was and upon closer inspection, I could see that I wanted no part of sampling the thick and dark brown concoction with the odd meaty/herby aroma. Robert, of course, was all up for trying it.
This blodpudding was made from goose blood and was a traditional specialty from southern Sweden. I gagged even watching Robert taste the stuff and perhaps not so politely turned down an offer to try it. And for his efforts, the food hall people gave him a nice shot of snaps to wash the disgusting mess down with. (I would say that it was necessary.)
For those of you like me who don’t know what blood pudding is, it’s a type of sausage made by cooking blood from pig or cattle until it has congealed into a thick mass. I could not get around the look, texture or smell of it. I was reminded of our experience in reading an article in The Local about the Swedish foods most foreigners hate. Apparently, we immigrants love lax or salmon, meatballs, crayfish and cinnamon rolls. We are not so happy about the blodpudding or surströmming. I think I pretty much agree with the list.
Thanks to moving apartments, I’ve been without internet at home. So not only have I been feeling like I am in unfamiliar territory, I’ve been unable to keep in touch with the world via my computer. It’s been frustrating. (My phone is a dinosaur and without surfing ability.) Plus, my digital camera broke, so I have not been able to take photos. Ugh!
As I was finishing up my work yesterday I noticed that it was raining but that the sun was shining brightly. So I went out on the balcony to look and there was a perfect rainbow. It seemed like a good omen to share, so I called my cousin in New York City. Funnily enough, we both had the same cough and sinus problems, a few thousand miles away. It was great to get caught up. And I should have home internet again on Friday. I hope.
Back in the new neighborhood, we’ve been continuing to explore. On Sunday, we went to Mälar Paviljongen, right on the water at Norr Mälarstrand. I’ve been there before and have always felt that this place has a cosy set-up with its floating decks on the water as well as garden-style dining on land. There’s a good selection of drinks and food and the view looking toward my old home on Södermalm is perfect.
We’ve been getting all sorts of good recommendations for where else to check out, including a French bakery that several people have mentioned. So that will be fun to try. What’s not so fun is figuring out how to get to our new place. A bus goes by right outside the door, but after work hours it runs much more sporadically than the subway. So last night, we ended up getting home one hour after we started thanks to missing a bus, switching to trains and then going to a bus again. The journey should have taken less than 10 minutes, by the way.
